


know your name

by superdupergust



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, I'll see myself out, Romance, See what I did there, a latte fluff, barista!christen, everyone is soft and gay, fluff with an extra shot of fluff, kelley is preath's #1 fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superdupergust/pseuds/superdupergust
Summary: “You don’t know anything about me. I could be a serial killer. Or super boring.”“Oh, I can already tell you’re not boring.”The girl raises a brow. “But you’re not sure about the serial killer thing?”“Hey, you’d probably be a really good one. No one would suspect you.”--In which Christen is a barista, Tobin can't stop staring, and Kelley issues a dare.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 146
Kudos: 615





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean, I'm supposed to do something in my free time besides write fic for these two? Oh well. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title from "Know Your Name" by Mary Lambert.

“Dude, seriously?”

Tobin startles, turning back to face Kelley across the table. “Huh?”

“Did you hear a single word I just said?” Kelley doesn’t sound angry, just mildly amused, her eyes flicking back and forth between Tobin and the brunette barista standing behind the counter at the other end of the small coffee shop.

The barista Tobin had maybe been staring at, instead of paying attention to Kelley.

“Uh. Yeah. Totally.”

Kelley snorts. “Okay, so what’s the answer, then?”

Tobin wracks her brain, trying to remember what Kelley had asked, but she’s drawing a complete blank. “No idea.”

“Because you don’t remember the year World War II started, or because you were too busy staring at a pretty girl to pay attention to me?”

“Definitely the first one.”

Kelley narrows her eyes. “Liar.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tobin returns with a smirk.

“1939, by the way,” is all Kelley says in response, tapping a finger twice against the thick textbook in front of her. “Your turn.”

Tobin looks down at the study guide for their history midterm and picks a question at random, reading it aloud and then taking a sip of her latte.

Tobin settles back in her chair as Kelley ponders the question, and she lets her gaze roam. It automatically comes to rest on the barista again, with her golden skin and dark, curly hair gathered back into a ponytail. She has a clipboard in her hand, seems to be counting all the muffins and cookies in the bakery case, and she’s frowning in concentration in a way that shouldn’t be adorable but somehow still is. 

Tobin’s debating ordering a snack just to have a reason to talk to her, though her bank account is already protesting the latte.

Surely one cookie couldn’t hurt-

“Okay, that’s it.”

“What?” Tobin whips her head back, eyebrows raised innocently, but Kelley isn’t buying it.

“I’m invoking the bet.”

“No,” Tobin protests, knowing instinctively what’s about to follow.

“I dare you to go ask her out.”

There it is.

“Kel, no. She’s at work; she doesn’t want to be hit on by some random stranger.”

Kelley is unfazed, an impish grin still on her face. “You’re not a stranger. She knows your name.” She gestures to the _Tobin_ scrawled in Sharpie along the side of her cup.

“I’m sure she’s forgotten it by now,” Tobin says, realistically knowing it’s true, though the thought makes her heart give a little tug of disappointment.

She doesn’t know the barista’s name, because she’d only been wearing an apron with _Spill the Beans_ embroidered on the front, no name tag.

Not that Tobin had checked.

“Besides, look at her. There’s no way she’s into girls. I’m not that lucky.”

“I don’t know, you got me as a best friend. Seems like you’re pretty lucky.”

Tobin scoffs. “Case in point.”

Kelley ignores the dig and leans back, tapping her bare wrist. “C’mon, time’s wasting. You won’t know until you try.”

“Kel-”

“You owe me three dares. I’m collecting.”

“Two now,” Tobin mumbles.

“Not until you get your ass off that chair and do it.”

Tobin sighs, standing. “Fine. I’m going.”

“Good luck.” Kelley shoots her a quick thumbs-up and wink, and Tobin glares at her before she turns toward the front counter.

Tobin knows she could just pretend. It’s a pretty quiet night, just six or seven other people scattered around the tables, but there’s still enough ambient noise that Kelley wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation.

She could just talk to the barista about any random thing, then go back to the table and tell Kelley the girl shot her down.

But, well.

Tobin isn’t one to lie or turn down a dare.

And the girl is just… _so_ pretty. If there’s a sliver of a possibility she’ll say yes, Tobin is willing to take the chance.

She reaches the counter, and the barista immediately sets her clipboard aside.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” she asks with a smile.

She’s just being polite, but the grin lights up her face, and Tobin feels it in her chest like a physical blow. This close, Tobin can see her eyes again, and she can’t quite tell if they’re green or grey, but they are without a doubt the most incredible shade she’s ever seen.

The silence holds just long enough that it teeters on awkward before Tobin clears her throat.

“Actually, I have a question.”

“Sure.” 

“Would you want to go out with me sometime?” Tobin asks, flashing her best smile to cover up the fact that she hasn’t been this nervous asking out a girl since high school.

“Oh.” The barista blinks at her, clearly taken aback. She bites her lip, looking from Tobin to the floor and then back. “Um…“

Tobin cringes internally, cursing both Kelley and herself, knowing she’s put the girl in an uncomfortable spot.

“Listen, don’t feel like you have to say yes. I know this is probably super weird with you being at work and all. But my friend dared me to ask you out because we have this whole thing going…it’s hard to explain. But feel free to say no. I swear I won’t, like, call your boss or leave you a bad Yelp review or something.”

“So, you… _don’t_ want to go out with me?” the girl asks, and she’s frowning adorably again, probably because she’s confused. Unsurprising, as Tobin is making a spectacular idiot of herself.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean,” Tobin breaks off, taking a deep breath and feeling a flush start to worm its way up into her cheeks. “No, that’s not what I meant. Yes, I would like to go out with you.”

“Just not enough to ask me out without a dare,” the barista says, a tiny smirk forming on her face.

It leaves Tobin breathless.

“No, I totally would have. Maybe not tonight, and I probably would have, like, asked your name first, but...yeah, definitely.”

“Why?”

“Why would I get your name? It’s usually a thing people do.”

“No, why would you have asked me out?”

Tobin blinks. “Have you _seen_ yourself?”

That makes the girl laugh, louder than Tobin would have expected. It seems genuine, and Tobin can feel her confidence growing, alongside the urge to let herself to fall into the familiar rhythm of casual, flirty banter.

“Yeah, but looks aren’t everything,” the barista counters. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be a serial killer. Or super boring.”

“Oh, I can already tell you’re not boring.”

The girl raises a brow. “But you’re not sure about the serial killer thing?”

“Hey, you’d probably be a really good one. No one would suspect you.”

She chuckles again, pulling a face. “Thanks, I think.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Tobin gets the feeling the other girl is sizing her up.

“I guess that still doesn’t solve our original problem, though,” Tobin says. “I still don’t know anything about you.”

The barista shakes her head slowly from side to side, eyes sparkling.

“And I can’t just ask you?”

“That’d be cheating. You’ve already done the asking out. Can’t backtrack now.”

“What if…” Tobin glances around the room quickly for inspiration, and her eyes land on the large menu hanging on the wall, all the drinks and descriptions hand-written in chalk, surrounded by cutesy designs and doodles. An idea springs to mind, and she says, “What if I can guess your favorite coffee drink? Then I’d know one thing about you.”

The barista’s mouth forms an odd shape as she tries to appear thoughtful while very clearly holding back a smile. She looks up and to the side for a few moments, tapping her finger on her chin for dramatic effect. Then she meets Tobin’s gaze again, and the closed-lipped expression morphs into a wide grin, her teeth gleaming white.

“Deal. You guess my favorite coffee drink, and I’ll go out with you.”

Tobin’s heart skips a beat in excitement, and for a moment she just grins back. “Great.” 

Then reality intrudes, and Tobin realizes the battle isn’t over. She still has to choose the right drink. 

She takes a deep, exaggerated breath and looks over the barista’s shoulder at the menu. “Okay, here we go. Moment of truth.” She scans the offerings, suddenly cursing the sheer number of them, as well as the variety. Why had she never noticed just how many drinks were on this board? Why didn’t she suggest something else? 

This was a terrible idea.

Tobin shoots her an assessing glance, then looks back at the menu.

“Hmm. I’m feeling a sweet tooth…” she murmurs, glancing at the barista for a tell, but her face is stoic, giving away nothing. Still, Tobin has the suspicion that she’s right. There are a number of sweet drinks on the board, but Tobin has nothing else to go on, so she chooses one at random. “I’ll say…mocha?”

The barista shakes her head slowly, eyes crinkled in amusement. “Nope.”

“Damn,” Tobin says softly, keeping a jovial tone and hoping that the fact that she feels utterly crushed right now doesn’t show on her face.

“Better luck next time,” the girl says, and Tobin’s brain is so busy trying to find a way to salvage the situation that it takes a moment to catch the implication of her words.

“Next time?”

The barista smiles and shrugs a shoulder, starts backing away even while she maintains eye contact. “I mean, you don’t have to be some kind of coffee drink savant and get it right on your first try. If you want to guess again next time you’re here, the deal’s still good.”

Tobin feels the grin growing across her face again, and her entire body feels lighter.

“So hypothetically, if I were to plan my next trip during a time I’d be able to get an answer, when should I visit?”

“I’d say your chances of getting an answer probably go up when I’m here, and the next time that happens is Saturday afternoon.”

“Guess I’ll see you Saturday, then,” Tobin says slowly, loving the feel of the words on her tongue.

“Guess you will.”

With one last grin over her shoulder, the barista grabs her clipboard and turns back to counting cookies once more.

Tobin doesn’t remember walking back to the table, but suddenly she’s there, dropping into her seat as Kelley shoots her a huge grin.

“See, I told you you should go for it. When’s the big day?”

“Hmm? Oh, she said no.”

“Wait, what?” Kelley’s smile drops into a confused frown. “Really?”

Tobin nods. “Yep. Shot me down.”

“Oh.” Kelley glances over at the barista and then back at Tobin. “Dude, I’m sorry. It looked like you guys had a thing going there.”

“It’s okay.” Tobin smiles, takes a sip of her drink. “I think we might.”

##

Christen shouldn’t still be thinking about her.

Spill the Beans is only a few miles from the university campus, and it’s a fairly popular student hangout, meaning that Christen gets asked out at least once a week. 

And it’s not limited to her - her coworkers all get hit on, too. Cheesy pick-up lines, numbers written on cups, awkward attempts to make small talk while holding up the people waiting to order behind them. They get it all. Christen blames the cutesy, romcom-esque portrayal of baristas everywhere.

Ashlyn says it’s the fact that men subconsciously want a woman who’s subservient to them and ready to cater to their every whim without complaint.

(Ashlyn is, to the surprise of no one who talks to her for more than five minutes, a women’s studies major.)

The culprits are unsurprisingly guys, the vast majority of the time. Christen is thankful for it only because she has an easy back-up to shut them down if they don’t take her patented, “I don’t go out with people I meet at work,” response.

(There’s a sadistic part of her that enjoys it - watching the way they try to mask their surprise, always doing a double take and running their eyes over her again, as though girls who wear makeup and have long hair aren’t allowed to be gay.)

Tobin wasn’t the first girl to ask her out at work. It was rare, but it had happened a couple times in the year since she’d started here. She was, however, the first one Christen hadn’t politely rejected.

She’d started to. Usually guys tried to talk her up a bit first, and she could sense the question coming a mile away. But Tobin had just jumped straight into it.

It had been enough to catch her off guard, make her hesitate. Which had left room for the other girl’s adorable - and surprisingly considerate - rambling. Not once had anyone acknowledged that they put her at a disadvantage while asking her out at a job where she was required to do her best to ensure their satisfaction.

And besides that, there was the fact that Tobin was…intriguing.

When she’d first stepped up to place her drink order, Christen had felt off-kilter immediately, something about her warm brown eyes making Christen’s insides feel all jumbled, her face going uncomfortably warm. She had pressed no fewer than three wrong buttons on the register screen, voiding them out before entering the order correctly, thankful that they didn’t have an outward-facing display and Tobin would be none the wiser.

Christen doesn’t remember the drink she ordered, but she does remember Tobin’s name, which is a miracle in and of itself. Generally she forgets customers’ names the second she finishes writing them on the cup. But Tobin - the name was unique enough that it made an impression and simple enough that it was easy to remember.

And then she’d gone and asked Christen out and been the most endearing combination of suave and awkward, and she’d made herself impossible to forget.

Which is why three days later, Christen is still thinking about her.

It’s a little after 3 PM, meaning that it has officially been Saturday afternoon for three hours.

Not that she’s counting.

Mercifully, it’s been fairly quiet for a Saturday, which Christen is thankful for, since Sonny called in sick (code for hungover, most likely). Her group text asking if anyone could pick up the shift last-minute had gone unanswered, so she and Ashlyn are alone until the evening crew arrives in a couple of hours.

The bell over the door jingles, and Christen glances up, only to have her hopes dashed when it’s some hipster-looking guy who immediately settles down at a table with his laptop without ordering anything, clearly just taking advantage of their free wifi.

“Waiting for someone?” Ashlyn asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm?” Christen feigns cluelessness as she grabs a blue sanitizing cloth and starts wiping down the counter, mostly to avoid making eye contact.

“Are. You. Waiting. For. Someone.”

“Um, no? Why would I be?”

“I don’t know. Just that you look at the door every single time it opens, and then you make a face like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you.”

Christen’s jaw drops. “I do not.”

“Sorry, but you definitely do. Who’s the lucky girl?”

“There’s no girl.”

“Sure,” Ashlyn says, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

Christen contemplates whether or not to share. She knows Ashlyn will most definitely mock her for going out with a customer, though she doesn’t mind. She would do the exact same thing if the tables were turned. (Though to be fair, she actually hasn’t gone out with Tobin. Yet. She just wants to. A little bit. And can’t stop thinking about it.)

God, she’s a mess.

Christen bites her lip. “…There might be a girl. Sort of.”

Ashlyn is leaning forward, about to ask for more details when the bell over the door rings again, and they both turn toward the sound. Christen suppresses a groan at the sight.

Two adults, one holding the door, and one leading a group of at least ten tween girls into the room, one of them wearing a tiara emblazoned with the words _birthday girl_.

“Ready the blenders,” Christen mutters under her breath, and Ashlyn huffs out an unamused laugh and goes to take her place at the register.

The party is just the beginning, followed immediately by an influx of adults and college students looking for their mid-afternoon caffeine fix. They’re constantly behind, Ashlyn having to jump off register and food to man the back bar when Christen can’t keep up with the drink orders alone. 

The rush holds for the next half hour and shows no sign of slowing down, and Christen is in the zone, hyped up on adrenaline and low-grade panic and not paying attention to anything other than the orders. She accidentally pours whole milk into the soy pitcher and curses under her breath, dumping the pitcher in the sink behind her and grabbing another. She’s mentally yelling at Sonny for calling in, as well as the rest of the crew for not being willing to cover, when she sees that the name on the cup she’s holding says _Tobin_.

Her head snaps up immediately, searching for brown eyes and a wide smile and - _there_. She’s standing a few feet from the end of the bar, casually leaning against the wall while she waits for her drink.

And Christen can do absolutely nothing besides shoot her a smile before she sets the milk to steam, then whirls around to pour the smoothie that just finished blending.

Of course this would be her luck, that Tobin would come in at the very worst time of her whole shift. 

She has no time to continue their game now, not with a line halfway to the door and an hour before the evening crew arrives.

So Christen does exactly what she normally would, calling out Tobin’s name and setting her drink on the counter before grabbing the next in the line of the cups beside the espresso machine.

She half expects Tobin to try to talk to her anyway, not caring how busy Christen is.

But she doesn’t. She just smiles and says “thank you” and drops some change into the tip jar before taking her plain soy latte (Christen does make a note of it this time) and walking out the door.

She can’t help but feel a flash of disappointment, even though it’s entirely irrational. She would have hated it if Tobin had tried to flirt with her when it clearly would have held up everyone else waiting for their drinks. It would have shown an innate selfishness, making Christen immediately disinclined to like her.

Still, the fact that she just walked away without any indication that she remembers their previous interaction stings a little.

Christen’s annoyed at herself for these feelings, though, and she slams the fridge a little too hard in frustration. Then she goes to put the next drink down at the end of the bar, and she notices the upside-down receipt placed carefully in the middle of the spot where she puts the finished drinks. 

The scribble is untidy but legible, and it only takes Christen a few seconds to read.

_Christen -_

_Looks like I have more time to think over my next guess. I have a good feeling about this one. Hope the rest of your day goes well. :)_

She can’t help the smile that unfolds across her face, both at the words and at the fact that Tobin was paying enough attention to notice that unlike last time, Christen is wearing her name tag today.

She grabs the note and almost tosses it in the trash, but something makes her press it in half and slip it into her pants pocket instead.

She turns back to the espresso machine with a lightness in her step, humming a little as she pumps vanilla syrup into a cup and thinks of warm brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite actually having been a barista for a period of time, this is somehow my first stab at a coffee shop AU. I'm having a blast writing it, and I hope you all are enjoying! Please let me know in the comments below. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Tobin has two problems.

The first is that she wants to see Christen again.

Like, a lot.

This is not a problem in itself, except for the second problem, which is what makes the first problem into a problem: Tobin doesn’t know when Christen will be working next. Nor does she know how to find out without stopping at Spill the Beans multiple times a day until she catches her, something she doesn’t have the time (or money) to do.

Plus, that approach seems a little stalker-ish, and after stumbling all over herself like a teenager asking her crush to prom, she’d like to maintain the illusion that she has some semblance of chill.

(Even though she has absolutely none, as evidenced by the fact that Tobin catches herself fantasizing about their next meeting instead of paying attention in classes, and scanning her surroundings when she walks through campus, hoping for a glimpse of dark curls.)

So as much as she longs to do otherwise, she waits for Wednesday, hoping that Christen will be working the same shift as the week before.

The days pass excruciatingly slowly, but Wednesday evening finally arrives, and Tobin finds herself staring at her small dorm closet, wondering what to wear. 

She knows she was only dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt when they met, and she doesn’t want to go too fancy, but she also wants to step it up a little.

In the end, she puts on almost the same thing she’d worn on Saturday: ripped black jeans and a simple white top.

She decides to forego a jacket, a decision she regrets immediately after stepping outside to find that the crisp October air has developed a biting edge since the sun went down, a reminder that winter is just around the corner.

Since the heat in her old Toyota is almost nonexistent, she’s shivering by the time she makes it to Spill the Beans.

Tobin refuses to think that the shivers might be partially because the adrenaline jitters she’s feeling are worse than ones she gets before season openers.

And all because of a pretty girl.

She’s a mess.

Tobin pulls into a parking spot outside of Spill the Beans, then sighs and drops her forehead against the steering wheel, taking two deep breaths to calm herself. 

Then she exits the car, crosses her arms against the wind, and makes her way into the café.

The first thing she notices is the temperature, blessedly warm against her goose-pimpled skin, followed quickly by the soothing scent of coffee and freshly baked cookies. 

And then she sees the girl standing behind the counter, and her heart jolts like someone just injected it with five shots of espresso.

She’s here.

Christen.

(Tobin loves that she knows her name now, and not only because she was getting really tired of hearing Kelley refer to her as Beauty the Barista.)

Christen’s face lights up in recognition when she sees Tobin standing in the doorway.

“Welcome back,” Christen says by way of greeting, and the acknowledgement that she hasn’t forgotten, has maybe even been looking forward to this like Tobin has…it makes Tobin warm all over, instantly curing her of all lingering effects of the cold weather.

“Thanks.”

In the brief silence that follows, Tobin is struck by a sudden worry that the wind has done crazy things to her hair, so she runs a hand through it in a way she hopes seems casual as she steps up to the counter.

Christen is wearing a plain black polo underneath her maroon apron, and her hair is pulled back into another ponytail, though this time it appears to have been straightened. 

She looks every single bit as beautiful as she had been in Tobin’s memory.

“I hoped you’d be here tonight,” Tobin says, and she’s rewarded when Christen’s smile widens.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I figured I’d take a shot since you were working last Wednesday.”

“You got lucky. My shifts are usually all over the place.”

“Hopefully my luck holds out.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Christen says mysteriously. “What’re you having tonight?”

Tobin orders her usual and pays, then waits for Christen to steam the milk. The machine is loud, made seemingly louder by the fact that they’re nearly the only people in the shop. The only occupied table is one in the far corner, and the two guys sitting there look like they don’t have eyes for anyone but each other.

Tobin understands the feeling.

The machine cuts off, and Tobin turns her gaze back to Christen, watching her make the drink like she’s done it a thousand times before.

“So. Christen. I know your name now,” Tobin says, gesturing at her name tag.

“I guess we’re even, since I know yours, _Tobin_ ,” she responds with a coy smirk.

Tobin has heard Christen say her name before, calling out her drink order. But this is different. The way she stresses the syllables, her voice deepening just the slightest bit…it stills the air in Tobin’s lungs, makes her lose track of her thoughts for a split second before she recovers.

“Yeah, but see, now I know something about you.”

Christen sets Tobin’s latte down in front of her, and her tone is dry as dust when she says, “Yes, you now know exactly as much about me as every single person who has walked in here today.”

Tobin chuckles. “Hey, I’m not saying I’m ready to write your biography. I’m just saying it’s a thing. So now once I know your favorite coffee drink, I’ll know two things about you. I think that’s a strong start, don’t you?”

“I think you’re missing a key element there, though.”

“The fact that I haven’t guessed it yet?”

“That’d be it.”

“Minor detail.” Tobin waves a hand in the air. “I have a strong guess today.”

“Pray, tell.”

Tobin says nothing, instead narrowing her eyes and looking straight into Christen’s for a few quiet seconds, as though she could see the answer written in them if she tries hard enough. She doesn’t see any words - obviously - but she does solve the mystery of the color of Christen’s eyes. They’re green. Absolutely, stunningly, incredibly green.

She feels her heart speed up at the prolonged contact, wills her voice to stay steady as she says, “Vanilla latte.”

“Strike two,” Christen says softly, and it should feel like a loss, but all Tobin can see is the way Christen’s cheeks are flushed when they hadn’t been seconds before, and it feels like a victory instead.

“Man. Guess I’ll just have to visit you again.”

“What a hardship.”

“You better be ready next time, though. I’ll have it then.”

Christen gives her a look she isn’t quite sure how to decipher, then says, “So, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Your friend who dared you to ask me out. You said you have some kind of ‘thing’ going? What’s that mean?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

Christen gestures to the practically empty lobby. “I’ve got time.”

“Okay, well, see,” Tobin pauses, taking a sip of her latte and leaning up against the counter. “Her name’s Kelley, and we’re both on the soccer team together-“

“Wait, really?” Christen interrupts.

Tobin nods, preening slightly at the impressed look Christen gives her.

“That’s awesome. I love soccer! I played all through high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

Christen shakes her head, ponytail swaying. “I’m serious. I even had a couple scouting offers, but I wanted to be able to focus on my studies.”

“You chose school over soccer?” Tobin pulls a face. “Now I’m not sure we can be friends.”

“Hey, to each their own, right?” Christen says with a laugh. “Anyway, how does this lead to a dare?”

“Well, you know the NWSL?” Christen nods, and Tobin continues. “I’m a huge Thorns fan, but Kelley is all about the Royals. And when they played each other a couple weeks ago, we made a bet, each backing our team for the win. Loser owed the winner three dares, to be collected whenever the winner saw fit.”

“And the Royals won.”

“Much to my dismay,” Tobin sighs. “Trust me, if you knew Kelley, you would not want her holding this much power over you. She’s, like, the epitome of chaotic energy.”

“Sounds dangerous. Has she used her other dares yet?”

“No. I think she enjoys torturing me.”

Christen’s response is cut off by the jingle of the door opening, and Tobin looks up to see a family of five entering. She turns back to Christen, who wrinkles her nose slightly in annoyance.

It’s the single most adorable thing Tobin has ever seen.

“I should…” Christen gestures a thumb over her shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“I’m working Saturday morning?”

“Can’t. I have an away game,” Tobin says apologetically.

“Monday?”

“I could do Monday.”

“Great, I’m here from 4 to close.”

“See you then.”

Christen shoots her what Tobin is pretty sure is supposed to be a wink before moving off to help her customers, and Tobin barely feels the cold when she walks out to her car and drives back to campus.

##

“Where are you going?” Tobin asks from the passenger seat of Kelley’s truck as she takes a right-hand turn.

“Um, to the field? For practice? Like always?”

“We have to stop for coffee first,” Tobin says, eyeing the clock as another minute ticks away. “Remember? That’s why you were supposed to pick me up early.” 

Not that Kelley had. She’d only been two minutes early, instead of the fifteen they’d planned on, and now the extra stop will put them very much at risk for arriving late to practice.

“Oh, right! Beauty the Barista awaits.”

“I told you to stop calling her that,” Tobin mutters. “Her name is Christen.”

“Ah, yes. _Christen_. How could I forget.”

Tobin sighs in annoyance and stares at the clock, willing it to slow down. “So…would you mind if we stopped?”

Kelley says nothing for a few seconds. Tobin opens her mouth again just as Kelley exclaims, “Let it never be said that I stood in the way of true love!” and makes a dramatic U-turn that incites a long honk from the car behind them.

Tobin grasps the handle above the door as they merge into the lane. “Jesus, Kel! I won’t get to go out with her if you kill me first.”

Kelley just cackles. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Not sure. I might be having a stroke.”

“Funnily enough, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“Color me shocked,” Tobin grumbles, but her mood lightens when they pull up in front of Spill the Beans.

“Go get her, champ,” Kelley says, stopping at the curb in what Tobin is pretty sure is not a parking spot.

Tobin doesn’t protest, though, just hops out and jogs into the coffee shop. Christen is standing at the register, but she isn’t alone today. There’s another girl around the same age at the espresso machine, blonde hair pulled into a messy topknot.

“Hey, you,” Christen greets cheerfully. She’s wearing a white polo today, her hair wrapped up in a tight bun. “You’re early today.”

“Yeah, this was the only time I could make it. I have practice in, like, six minutes, and Kelley is super illegally parked out there.” 

Christen’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh! You didn’t have to stop by just to see-“ she breaks off, looking down, and Tobin can’t help her grin.

“But I wanted to see you.”

Christen looks at her, eyes bright. “Right back at you.”

“Really? I was starting to think this is just a ruse to drive in business,” Tobin teases.

Christen scoffs out a laugh. “Trust me, your one tiny soy latte isn’t exactly doing wonders for my check average. Speaking of, I assume that’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes, please. Could I get a large iced coffee, too?”

“Oh, splurging today?”

“Figured I’d get Kelley something, since she’s probably going to wind up with a ticket because of me.”

“Seems like a fair trade.”

Tobin pays and, glancing to make sure no one is standing behind her, stays where she is, instead of moving to the end of the bar.

“So, I’ve thought about it.”

“About what?”

“Your drink.”

“Ah. And?”

“And I think it’s a caramel macchiato.” 

“Wrong again,” Christen says with an apologetic grin.

“Man, I’m really terrible at this game,” Tobin laughs mournfully.

She doesn’t have much time to be disappointed, because the other barista calls out to signal her order is ready. Tobin picks up her drinks, thanks the girl whose name tag dubs her _Emily_ , and drops a dollar into the tip jar.

Then she hurries toward the door but stops right in front of it, whirling back around.

“Wait, I don’t know when you-“

“Sunday, 6 to 10,” Christen calls back, correctly assuming her question.

“PM?”

Christen shakes her head. “AM.”

“Fuck,” Tobin exclaims, then colors and glances around, glad she doesn’t see any children in the vicinity. “Okay. Good thing you’re pretty,” Tobin says, and she sees Christen’s shoulders shaking with silent laughter before she presses the door open with her back, then hurries over to Kelley’s truck.

##

Christen chews her lip and watches the clock on the register, which reads 9:57.

Normally, she would be ecstatic that her shift is practically over.

Instead, she’s pathetically close to moping.

From Tobin’s reaction, Christen had gathered she isn’t exactly a morning person, but it’s not like 10 AM is the crack of dawn.

Maybe she’s lost interest. It’s what Christen had assumed would happen from the beginning.

But the disappointment sitting heavy in her gut proclaims she’s gotten far more attached to Tobin than she’d anticipated.

Christen sighs, annoyed at Tobin for not showing up, annoyed at herself for being upset, annoyed at Mal for texting under the counter again even though Christen has already gotten onto her about it, and annoyed that instead of getting to go back to her apartment and relax for the rest of the day, she has to go straight from work to a group study session.

Crystal emerges from the back, tying an apron around her waist, ready to relieve Christen, who looks at the clock one more time.

9:59.

She glances up at the door. Nothing.

“Drink for the road?” Crystal asks, not seeming to notice Christen’s mood, or perhaps just attributing it to the early shift.

“Yes, please.”

“The usual?”

Christen nods, untying her apron and heading to clock out and collect her things. Mal hands Christen her drink when she passes by on her way back from the break room, and Christen thanks her before she drops into one of the booths by the front windows, digging her phone out of her purse. She shoots off a quick text to Casey, asking for confirmation that she’s ready for Christen to pick her up.

Casey replies immediately with a short _yep!_ , and Christen shoves her phone back into her purse. She grabs her drink and heads for the front door, shooting a quick wave to Crystal and Mal.

Then the door swings open, and Tobin rushes in.

Her hair is down and slightly disheveled, and she’s wearing grey sweatpants and a black hoodie with the Portland Thorns logo embroidered on the upper right corner.

And on her nose sits a pair of black, rectangular-rimmed glasses.

Christen’s lousy mood vanishes into the ether as she takes in this version of Tobin, sleep-rumpled and soft and bespectacled. 

Tobin stops short, blinks in surprise as she sees Christen standing just in front of her. “Oh.” Then her face breaks out into the widest grin Christen has ever seen, and combined with everything else, Christen feels her knees actually go weak. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Christen says, and she’s glad only one word is required, because she’s not sure she could manage more.

“I was afraid I’d miss you.”

Christen clears her throat and recovers herself. “You almost did,” she says, her tone teasing.

“I’m so sorry. I overslept.”

“Clearly.”

Christen looks her up and down, and Tobin blushes, runs a hand through her hair.

“Yeah, um. Sorry. Didn’t have time to change. I didn’t want to be too late.”

Christen angles her head toward the booth she just abandoned. “I have to go in a couple minutes, but if you wanna…”

Tobin nods, following her to the booth and sitting down on the opposite side.

“So, not a morning person, then?” Christen asks.

“I’m not usually this bad, I swear. I have church at 9, actually, so the plan was just to swing by beforehand.”

“What happened?”

“Well, there was an international game on.”

“Of?”

“Soccer,” Tobin drops her brows, like the answer should be obvious.

“Of course.”

“At 3 AM.”

“Oh!” Christen exclaims.

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you just record it?”

Tobin shrugs. “I like watching games live. It’s more exciting that way.”

“If you say so,” Christen says doubtfully.

“Anyway, the plan was to watch the game, then get a couple more hours of sleep. But my team pulled ahead early and lost all their energy, and the game got pretty boring. I fell asleep during the last half, and I hadn’t set my alarm.”

“Whoops.”

“Tell me about it. Can’t believe I almost missed you.”

“Well, maybe next time, try sleeping through the night like a normal person,” Christen quips.

“Or I could just make sure I have my alarm set the night before.”

“I guess that works.”

“Speaking of guesses…” Tobin pauses. “I have my guess ready for today.”

“Hit me.”

“Whatever’s in that cup,” Tobin says with a cheeky grin, pointing to the cup in Christen’s hand, and Christen tosses her head back and laughs.

“That’s definitely cheating.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Tobin sighs playfully. “Okay. Pumpkin spice latte?”

“Wrong again,” Christen says, and she’s interrupted by her phone dinging. “One sec, sorry.”

It’s just a text from Julie, saying she’s baking muffins for their study session.

Christen types out a quick _bless you!! ♥_ and then sets her phone down on the table.

“Sorry. I’m getting together with a couple classmates at 10:30. We have this group project thing, and we have to prep.”

“What is your major, by the way?”

“Biology.” 

“Really?” Tobin’s tone is surprised, a reaction Christen is very accustomed to.

“Yeah. The plan is to go to vet school after.”

“I could see you making a great vet. You totally have that animal lover vibe.”

Christen grins, thinks of Morena and Khaleesi, and is swept with a sudden wave of homesickness. “I’m pretty predictable that way, I guess. What’s yours?”

“Also predictable. I’m doing sports management.”

“Not time management?”

Tobin makes a rueful face at the dig. “Nah, I failed that one.”

“Bummer.” Christen glances down at her phone again, cursing the time. “I’m sorry, I really do have to go.”

Tobin waves her along. “No worries. Go, learn lots.”

Christen hesitates, then stands, and Tobin does, too. 

She has the sudden, almost irrepressible urge to place a quick kiss to Tobin’s cheek before she leaves, but she refrains. Instead, she offers, “My next shift is Wednesday. If you’re still interested.”

“Hey, I still have a good two-thirds of the menu to go. I don’t give up that easily.”

Tobin winks from behind her glasses, and it makes Christen want to blow off Casey and Julie and stay right here.

But she can’t.

“Good,” is all she says instead, and when she gets to her car, she turns up the music loud, as if she could force Tobin from her thoughts by sheer volume alone.

(It doesn’t work.)

##

When Tobin enters on Wednesday night, the first thing she says is, “I’ve discovered the error of my ways.”

She’s wearing her Portland hoodie again, but she has on nicer jeans, and she doesn’t look like she just fell out of bed and landed in the middle of a café.

She’s also not wearing her glasses, much to Christen’s disappointment, though her eyes still make Christen want to stare into them for hours.

She’s really got a problem.

“What’s that?”

“See, you give off this vibe that’s all, like,” she waves a hand in the air, “candy and rainbows and unicorns. So that’s why I went with sweet drinks. But I’ve been wrong this whole time.”

“And now you think you’re on the right track?”

“I do.” Tobin takes a deep breath, then deepens her voice slightly, putting on a dramatic tone similar to a game show host. “Christen Barista I-Don’t-Know-Your-Last-Name-Yet, my final answer on your favorite coffee drink, for the grand prize of winning a date, is…” she pauses for dramatic effect. “…a plain cappuccino.”

Christen shakes her head. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

She keeps her tone playful, but for the first time, it doesn’t come naturally. Because she is, both sorry and disappointed. 

Because tonight, it doesn’t feel like a game anymore. Flirting with Tobin is fun, but it’s not enough.

She wants more.

And judging by the way Tobin’s answering smile doesn’t entirely reach her eyes, the way her shoulders slump just a little, it seems like she feels the same way. And suddenly, Christen is swept with a wave of guilt she doesn’t know what to do with.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to want this. Not like she does.

They fall back into their regular rhythm for a few minutes, but Christen is still slightly relieved when she leaves.

Christen paces aimlessly behind the counter for a few seconds, then grabs the checklist of things she has to do before closing. The first item is restocking the front refrigerators, so she starts going through them, jotting down a list of what she needs.

The swinging doors bang open behind her, and Christen jumps as Ashlyn sticks her head out.

She’d almost forgotten the other girl was here, counting stock in the back for the monthly inventory.

Ashlyn tilts her head, beckoning, and Christen follows her behind the doors.

The doors have small windows built in, and Ashlyn angles herself so that she can keep an eye on the register while carrying on a conversation.

“That was your girl?”

Christen nods.

“She’s hot.”

Christen barks out a startled laugh. “Trust me, I know.”

“So, I couldn’t help but overhear-”

“Eavesdrop,” Christen corrects.

“Potato, potahto.”

She raises her eyebrows, and Ashlyn shrugs.

“Look, I hate to break it to you, but these doors aren’t exactly soundproof. I wasn’t going to cover my ears just so you two could flirt in privacy.”

“We weren’t flirting.”

Ashlyn levels her with an unimpressed look, like that’s the worst lie she’s heard in her entire life.

Which, fair.

“Yeah, okay, we were definitely flirting.”

“I know. And correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounded like you made a deal with her? She guesses your favorite coffee drink, and you’ll go out with her?”

“Yup,” Christen responds, popping the _p_.

Ashlyn wrinkles her brow, confused. “You hate coffee.”

“Yeah,” Christen says, closing her eyes and leaning back, letting her head thunk against the stainless steel of the industrial refrigerator. “Yeah, I know.”

“So why…”

Christen pushes away from the appliance, hands flailing wide as the dam bursts and all her words come pouring out. “I don’t know! She said it, and it seemed funny at the time. I didn’t think there’d be any harm. And she’s so cute, Ash, god. I figured she’d probably forget about me. On the off chance she didn’t, I’d tell her the next time she came in, but then it was that Saturday when Sonny called in and we were slammed and I didn’t get to talk to her, and now it’s turned into this whole thing.”

Ashlyn stares at her like the answer is obvious. “So, just go out with her, then.”

“It’s only…I don’t know. I wasn’t prepared to like her this much. I planned on not doing the relationship thing for at least the rest of the semester, after…you know,” Christen breaks off, knowing Ashlyn is aware that she broke up with her girlfriend in August. “But I really want to go out with her. Like, not just as a one-time, blow-off-some-steam deal. I want to _date_ her.”

Ashlyn stays silent for a few more seconds, as though she’s waiting to see if Christen is finished talking. Then she just says, “Sounds like you’ve already got it figured out.”

Christen is quiet, glancing out to the lobby more to buy herself time than because she thinks there’s someone waiting. There is nobody at the counter, as expected. Christen looks back at Ashlyn and blows out a slow breath. “I’m just…scared. Fuck. That’s really all it is.” Christen laughs once, low and rueful. “I’m scared.”

“Hey, listen.” Ashlyn looks at her intently. “That’s a completely valid response after what you went through. But not all girls are assholes who’ll cheat on you, okay? That girl was insane. Aside from Ali, you’re the sweetest, smartest, most gorgeous person I know. You deserve to be with someone who recognizes that. Do you think this girl does?”

Christen doesn’t even have to contemplate it. “Yes.”

“And you want her, too?”

“Yes.”

“Then you just have to decide what to do.”

Christen thinks of the soft way Tobin looks at her, how only the thought of her makes Christen’s heart beat faster. How every single thing Christen learns about her makes her long to uncover more. Tobin makes her want to take a chance, as though she instinctively knows that what they could have is worth the risk of getting hurt again.

And Christen feels a peace as she makes the decision, the words out of her mouth before she even realizes. “I already know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, I’ve decided Christen doesn’t like coffee. This is the coffee-hating representation I need in my life.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) Tobin’s birthday, y’all! Thank you for the overwhelming support for this little story. It’s been a blast! Next up, I’m hoping to tackle something a little longer, but until then, please enjoy some good good fluff. :)

When she spots the familiar wind-tousled brown hair in line on Saturday afternoon, Christen feels a wave of nerves. She’s been steeling herself all day, preparing the words in her head, worrying that Tobin will show up in the middle of a major rush and Christen will have been nervous all day for nothing. For once, though, Tobin’s timing is perfect. Christen has just finished restocking the bakery case, and Crystal and Sonny are more than capable of handling the slow but steady stream of customers.

She flashes Tobin a smile to show that she’s seen her, then sidles over to Sonny. “You okay if I take my ten?”

Sonny nods. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll be out front. Call if you need me.”

Christen runs to the restroom and washes her hands, taking a quick peek in the mirror to make sure everything is in place as she takes a deep breath.

She finds Tobin standing at the end of the bar, waiting for her drink.

“Hey,” she greets.

“Hey. Thought you’d abandoned me for a sec.”

“Nope, just taking my break.”

Tobin grins, looking her up and down. “Almost didn’t recognize you without your apron.”

“Tobin?” Crystal calls, and Tobin retrieves her drink before they head for one of the small tables along the far wall.

“I really feel like today’s guess is going to be the one,” Tobin says as she sits down across from Christen.

Christen licks her lips, and a wave of heat encompasses her when Tobin’s eyes drop to follow the movement. Christen loses focus for a moment as she suddenly wonders what would happen if, instead of saying anything, she took Tobin’s hand and led her to the break room and-

Giving herself a stern mental shake, Christen clears her throat, and Tobin’s gaze lifts back to meet hers. “Actually, I wanted to mention something about that.”

“Are you going to give me a hint?” Tobin asks, popping the lid off her drink and blowing on it gently. “Because I have to admit, I’m not too proud to take it.” 

“Sort of.”

Tobin pauses, setting her cup back down on the table. “Wait, really?”

“Yep. You ready for it?”

Tobin nods.

“I don’t like coffee.”

Tobin chuckles hesitantly, eyebrows scrunched together and head tilted to the side, like she doesn’t quite get the joke.

“No, I’m serious,” Christen continues. “I hate it, actually. It’s disgusting. I have no idea how people drink it all the time.”

Tobin blinks at her for a long moment, then: “Wait, _what_?”

Christen cringes and throws her hands up over her face. “I know! I know! It’s terrible!” She removes her hands, so she can make eye contact to plead her case. “But you were so cute, and then I agreed, and then it was a thing, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Oh my god.” Tobin’s shoulders shake with her laughter, and Christen feels a thousand pounds lighter when she realizes Tobin isn’t angry. “You’re awful! Were you just going to let me go all the way through the menu?”

“I thought you’d forget about me!”

Tobin’s laughter fades, and her eyes go warm. “Christen. I think about you, like, all the time.” Her voice takes on a slightly self-deprecating tone as she admits, “I count down the days to your shifts.”

Christen swallows. “So do I,” she says, softly.

“So…”

“So,” Christen reaches out to place her hand over Tobin’s. “Tobin.”

“Yeah?”

“If I can guess your favorite coffee drink, will you go out with me?”

A small smile appears on Tobin’s lips, growing slowly wider until her entire face is transformed. “I think that sounds like a pretty good idea.”

Christen taps a finger against her nose, as though deep in thought. “Soy latte?” 

“Got it in one. Man, you’re really good at this game for someone who doesn’t like coffee.”

“We all have our talents,” Christen says primly.

Tobin flips over the hand beneath Christen’s so that she can thread their fingers together, and Christen marvels at how such a simple action can have her heart doing cartwheels in her chest.

“Are you busy Tuesday?”

Tobin nods, grimacing slightly. “I have practice. Sorry. What about Thursday?”

“I can do Thursday.”

“Perfect.”

Christen lets herself fall into the depths of Tobin’s smile as they say nothing for several long seconds. With the afternoon sun streaming in through the window, her eyes look almost amber, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her nose has the faintest sprinkle of freckles, and her lips are slightly chapped.

And Christen thinks she could just spend the rest of her shift sitting here, watching her, memorizing everything about her face so she can recreate it perfectly in her memories.

But she also doesn’t want to creep Tobin out before they even have a chance to go on their date, and her break is coming to an end way too soon, so she opts for speaking instead. 

“I just have one more question, before this goes any further.”

“Sure, ask me anything.”

“Would you like my number?”

Tobin squeezes her fingers lightly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

##

**Tobin (4:23 PM): so, what did you have in mind for thursday?**  
 **Tobin (4:23 PM): i’m gonna guess we’re not grabbing coffee ;)**

**Christen (6:02 PM): Hey! Just got off work. I’m assuming this is Tobin… :)**

**Tobin (6:03 PM): have you made plans with any of your other customers for thursday?**

**Christen (6:03 PM): Nope, you’re the only one. :)**  
**Christen (6:04 PM): As for what we’re doing, you’ve had a lot of drinks around me, but it’s about time for some food, don’t you think?**

**Tobin (6:04 PM): i knew i liked you for a reason**

“I see how it is.”

“Hmm?” Tobin sets her phone on the table and takes another bite of spaghetti, then glances up at Kelley when she doesn’t immediately continue.

Kelley points her fork at Tobin’s phone. “When _I_ text you, it’s, like, eight hours before I get a response. But now that _Christen’s_ texting you, you’re barely even putting your phone down to eat.”

“Fuck off,” Tobin mutters mildly, but she can’t stop a smile when her phone vibrates next to her.

Kelley just rolls her eyes, and Tobin ignores her as she looks down at the screen.

**Christen (6:05 PM): How do you feel about pizza?**

**Tobin (6:05 PM): i feel extremely good about pizza**

Tobin bites her lip, then adds:

**Tobin (6:06 PM): and i feel even better about the company :)**

**Christen (6:08 PM): Stop, you’re going to turn me into one of those girls grinning sappily at her phone.**

**Tobin (6:08 PM): good**

##

Christen steps into Lorenzo’s Pizzeria on Thursday night and is immediately overwhelmed by the mouth-watering aroma of spices and warm pizza crust.

She’d picked this location because they have amazing pizza, but also because the atmosphere is the perfect blend of romantic and casual. The lighting is soft, tables covered with red and white checked cloths, but local art hangs on every wall, and they play the university-run radio station overhead.

A song Christen vaguely recognizes plays quietly as Tobin spots her from a table halfway across the room and stands. The smile Tobin shoots her is strangely shy, but Christen barely processes it as she takes in her outfit. The light blue jeans and black sneakers are unsurprising, but the long-sleeved black top is close-fitting, revealing the physique she usually keeps hidden under t-shirts and hoodies, and Christen has to exert a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep herself from staring.

“Hi,” Christen says when she gets close enough, and they slide into opposite sides of the booth.

“Hi.”

“You made it on time.” She adds a smile to soften her words and let Tobin know she’s teasing.

“Early, even.”

Christen bites the inside of her lip as she tries to think of what to say next, her mind suddenly blank on all possible avenues of conversation. Tobin’s fingers tap on the table, and she takes a sip of the water she already has sitting in front of her.

“Do you know this song?”

“Hmm?”

Christen points to the ceiling, referencing the music being played overhead. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Oh.” Tobin tilts her head to the side for a few seconds while she listens, then shakes it. “No, I don’t. I like it, though.”

“Yeah.”

They lapse into silence again, and Christen doesn’t know where to look.

It’s never been like this between them, not since the first time Tobin appeared out of the blue and asked her out, and Christen doesn’t know what to say, how to fix the awkward tension hovering over the table. She doesn’t know why she’s this nervous, when they’ve been talking for weeks and texting almost non-stop for days.

(She knows exactly why she’s this nervous: because they’ve been talking for weeks and texting almost non-stop for days, and Christen doesn’t remember the last time she liked someone this much. Possibly never.)

The waitress comes up to the table and takes Christen’s drink order, giving them two menus before she disappears.

The quiet holds as they inspect their menus, and Christen twirls one of her rings underneath the table as she scans the words without registering a single one.

Suddenly Tobin’s menu slaps down, and Christen peers over the top of hers questioningly.

“Alright, let me have it,” Tobin says.

“Have what?”

“Your real opinion, now that you’re not being paid to be nice to me.”

Just like that, the tension breaks, and Christen laughs. She sets her menu down on the table and leans forward, meeting Tobin’s eyes, so dark in this lighting but alive and sparking with mischief.

“Trust me, if I didn’t like you, you’d know it. I don’t have a problem saying no to being asked out at work. It happens all the time. You’re the only one I’ve ever said yes to.”

At that, Tobin balks. “Wait, really?”

Christen nods, willing away a blush as she realizes what she’s just inadvertently admitted. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

“Too late,” Tobin says with a cheeky grin.

“God, I can see your ego swelling from here.”

“Listen, you can’t just tell a girl that and expect her not to be flattered.”

“Should you be, though? I mean, you said you wouldn’t even have asked me out if it weren’t for Kelley.”

“I did not! I said I wouldn’t have asked you out _that day_. I would’ve come back. Been a lot smoother. It would have been a legendary asking out, and you should be sad you missed it.”

Christen giggles. “I would’ve turned you down, though.”

“That’s what you think. You were just never subjected to my full charm.”

“I would have. I have a rule about not dating people I meet at work. Just makes things easier.”

Tobin shoots her a quizzical look. “Then why…?”

“You surprised me.” Christen shrugs. “And apparently I have a thing for brunettes in sweatpants.”

“Lucky for you I came along, because I happen to own a plethora of sweatpants.”

Christen raises her eyebrows. “A plethora, huh?”

“Hey, I know words.”

“I’ve just never known anyone who owned a plethora of sweatpants before.”

“Well, everyone you know is missing out,” Tobin says, then picks up her menu again. “So, what’re you feeling tonight?”

“What, not gonna try to guess my favorite pizza topping?” 

Tobin laughs. “No, I think we’ve established that I’m terrible at that game.”

“I actually like pizza, though, so you’d have a chance of winning.”

“Funny how the game works better when you don’t cheat,” Tobin says with a wry grin.

They end up ordering a regular pepperoni, and the conversation flows easily the rest of the night. She learns about Tobin’s family, about just how good at soccer she really is. In turn, she tells Tobin about her life, her plans to become a veterinarian and how nervous she is about getting into a good vet school, even though her grades are excellent. Tobin asks about her rings, and Christen explains that she isn’t allowed to wear them at work, and she shares the story of how she got each one. 

Before she knows it, it’s been three hours, the pizza is long gone, and Christen is trying her best to hide a massive yawn.

She’s not successful, though, and Tobin notices. “Do you need to get going?”

“I probably should. I have an 8 AM tomorrow.”

“Those are the worst.”

Christen shrugs. “I don’t mind them. I like mornings.”

“I like my mornings when they aren’t ruined by classes.”

“That’s fair.”

“Where are you parked?”

She points to the side of the building where she left her car, and Tobin says, “Me, too.”

Christen slips on her jacket, and Tobin’s arm brushes against hers as they make their way outside. The night is just slightly chilly after an unseasonably warm day, and it feels refreshing after the intimate warmth of the restaurant.

Christen carefully slides a small tin of mints out of her purse, placing one on her tongue and chewing it as they round the corner of the building and her car comes into view.

“What was that?” Tobin asks.

“What was what?”

“That stealthy little mint move.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Christen says, feigning innocence even as she feels her cheeks warm. They reach Christen’s car, and she stops in front of the driver’s side door, turning around to face Tobin.

“Sure.”

“Listen! There was a lot of garlic in that pizza. I’m just trying to spare you, in case.”

“In case…” Tobin gives her a wide grin, her teeth flashing white in the parking lot light. “In case of what?”

“In case you happen to get close to me?”

“Hmm, how close were you thinking?” Tobin asks, stepping barely a fraction of an inch closer. “There?”

Christen shakes her head slowly back and forth, and Tobin takes another small step forward, then looks up with her eyebrows raised questioningly.

“A little more.”

One more step, and she’s so close that Christen can barely see anything else.

(She can never see anything else when Tobin’s around.)

“Here?”

She nods, and Tobin smirks.

“And what were you planning on-“

Christen kisses her.

She doesn’t mean to, not exactly. It isn’t a conscious decision. She loves flirting with Tobin, the way she drawls out teasing like no one else. She loves their back and forth, how Tobin can make her smile so easily.

But Christen also wants to know what her mouth feels beneath her own, if her lips will be as soft and pillowy as they look. She wants to know everything, the way Tobin feels, the way she tastes, the way she sounds. 

And she can’t imagine living without that knowledge for a second longer.

Tobin makes a small sound of surprise as she’s cut off mid-sentence by Christen’s lips come to rest atop hers. Then she’s returning the kiss, one of her hands falling to Christen’s right hip, the other coming up to caress her cheek.

The kiss is gentle and short and quiet, and it makes every bit of her go warm and pliable as molasses. Their lips brush again, and Christen idly thinks that Tobin’s lips are exactly as soft as they look.

Tobin leans back slowly, breaking the kiss, and when Christen opens her eyes, her smirk has returned with a vengeance.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” she says in a teasing tone that’s slightly husky, and it makes Christen tingle even as she pushes gently at Tobin’s shoulder.

“Maybe I just wanted you to be quiet.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me twice. I’m a quick learner.”

With that, she leans back in, taking Christen’s bottom lip between hers, and Christen…

Christen _melts_.

She sinks into the kiss with a small sigh, every feeling she’s had in the past weeks rushing to the surface until she’s abuzz with fluttering butterflies from head to toe, mind cloudy and limbs tingling. 

She wraps her arms around Tobin’s back, feeling the solid, smooth muscle beneath her palms. Christen is suddenly glad she left her hair down tonight, as Tobin’s fingers spear deep in the tresses, holding her close. 

Then the warmth of Tobin’s tongue meets hers, and Christen can barely hear anything over her heart thundering in her ears, but she hears Tobin’s quick intake of breath when Christen presses closer.

And Christen thinks, strangely, of coffee.

One thing that has always mystified her is why people let themselves get addicted to the drink, welcoming the fate of becoming a zombie every morning, reliant on their daily life juice to revive them.

But now Christen understands.

She thinks she could easily get addicted to Tobin’s lips, to the way she kisses, gentleness morphing into something hungrier. Something that makes Christen want to invite her back to her apartment, knowing exactly what will happen if she does.

She thinks there’s a lot she would subject herself to if meant Tobin would kiss her like this every morning. 

The thought startles her, both because it’s way too soon for ideas like that, and because of the overwhelming sense of rightness she feels when she imagines it.

It’s enough to make Christen pull back slowly, pressing a quick kiss to Tobin’s cheek, then dropping her forehead onto her shoulder.

“Wow.”

Tobin’s breath is unsteady in her ear. “Yeah.”

They stay like that for a long moment, until she hears Tobin’s voice ask quietly, “What are you thinking about?”

“Coffee.”

Tobin emits a small, surprised laugh, and pulls back. “Why?”

Christen shrugs, definitely not planning on sharing her amazing-kiss-induced, way-too-much-for-a-first-date thoughts. “Just that I’m really glad Kelley came with you to get coffee that day.”

Tobin brushes a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away again. “Me, too.”

##

**Tobin (9:21 AM): what time is your shift today**

**Christen (9:22 AM): 4-8. Why?**

**Tobin (9:24 AM): no reason ;)**

**Christen (9:25 AM): If you’re planning to drop by, I’d love to see you. But just as a heads up, my boss will be there tonight, which means we all have to be on super good behavior.**

**Tobin (9:26): so no flirting allowed?**

**Christen (9:26 AM): Exactly.**

**Tobin (9:27): i guess i can handle that**

**Christen (9:28): You know, we’re going out again tomorrow. You don’t have to stop by work just to see me.**

**Tobin (9:29): i know, but i want to**

**Christen (9:29): :)**

**Tobin (9:29): i’m really craving some coffee**

**Christen (9:29): Gross**

**Tobin (9:30): and the company’s pretty good, too**

**Christen (9:30): Just remember, no flirting!**

**Tobin (9:31): fine, but that rule doesn’t go into effect until 4, right? i’m allowed to until then?**

**Christen (9:31): If you like.**

**Tobin (9:33): i’ve been thinking about you a latte**

**Christen (9:34): Never mind, your flirting privileges have officially been revoked.**

It’s a ridiculous line Tobin picked up from a quick “coffee shop pick up lines” Google search, but there’s an element of truth to it, because she can’t stop thinking about Christen.

Not that this is a new development. She basically hasn’t stopped thinking about Christen since she saw her.

But now, it’s worse. Now she knows how it feels to run her fingers through Christen’s curls, to have their bodies pressed together.

She knows how Christen giggles, the way she lowers her eyes when she’s embarrassed, how she gets bright and animated when she talks about the dogs she claims as her own, even though they live with her parents.

Today is no exception, with Christen in her thoughts as Tobin goes about her Saturday, doing laundry and homework and trying not to stare at the clock.

She manages to wait until 4:25 before she finally gives up and grabs her keys, figuring that half an hour is enough after the start of Christen’s shift that she won’t seem desperate.

When she steps inside Spill the Beans that afternoon, just as Christen had warned, there’s an intimidating-looking white woman standing in the corner behind the counter. She has grey hair cut into a sharp bob, and she’s observing the two baristas while making notes on a clipboard.

Christen isn’t at the register, but Tobin can see the top of her bun poking out from behind the espresso machine.

The one standing at the register is Emily again, the same girl who had been working with Christen last week. Her hair isn’t in a sloppy bun today, but pulled back into a perfectly smooth ponytail. She shoots Christen a teasing grin as Tobin approaches, waggling her eyebrows, and Christen narrows her eyes in return. Tobin wants to laugh at the exchange, silent but speaking volumes, but instead, she keeps her face professional as she orders.

She lets Emily upsell her, adding both an extra shot of espresso and a chocolate chip muffin, even though she hadn’t intended to order either.

She winces a little at the total, but thinks it’s worth it for the way Christen smiles at her.

Tobin moves to the end of the counter to wait with the customer ahead of her, and she watches as Christen deftly maneuvers around her area, crafting drinks with ease.

Tobin’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and when she pulls it out, she sees a text from Kelley.

**Kelley (4:36): just stopped by your room and you weren’t there.**  
**Kelley (4:36): istg if you went to spill the beans without me again…**

Tobin winces, then has a wave of inspiration.

**Tobin (4:37): what if i bring you back a chocolate chip muffin?**

The little dots pop up, and Tobin waits for her response.

**Kelley (4:38): i suppose you could be forgiven**

“Tobin?”

Tobin looks up to find Christen placing her drink on the bar alongside the plastic container holding her muffin.

“Thank you for coming in, Tobin. Enjoy your drink,” Christen says, her eyes twinkling.

“Thank _you_ for your excellent service, miss,” Tobin enthuses, her tone overly serious.

Christen’s face contorts as she tries not to laugh, but then she smooths it back into a pleasant expression and returns to the espresso machine.

Tobin scopes out an empty table and settles into it, knowing she should probably go back to the car and grab her backpack, get some studying in. Instead, she just relaxes, enjoying the easy atmosphere of a Saturday afternoon at a coffee shop. There are couples and families and individuals sitting all around, and Tobin’s fingers suddenly itch for a pencil.

She’s wishing she would have brought a sketchpad when she takes a sip of her latte, wincing a little at the extra strong taste. Then she notices two straight Sharpie marks along the side of her cup near the bottom, and she frowns, inspecting them more closely. There’s a line of tiny words printed on the cup, most of which have been crossed out neatly by the marker.

_~~Caution: The beverage~~ you’re ~~about to enjoy is~~ extremely hot._

Tobin chokes on her drink.

##

At precisely 8:30 that night, Tobin pauses the game she’s rewatching and unlocks her phone. She doesn’t have any texts from Christen waiting, but she hadn’t expected to, not having sent any herself, even though she usually likes to text Christen during work, just little jokes or comments, something to make her smile after a tiring shift.

But tonight, even though they've never done it before, Tobin wants to call her. So she does.

“Hello?” Christen’s tone is slightly surprised when she picks up.

“I thought you said no flirting allowed.”

Christen’s delighted cackle at the other end of the line is worth the potential weirdness of the call, and Tobin smiles and settles back against her pillow as she cradles her phone to her ear.

“I said _you_ weren’t allowed to flirt. Not that I wasn’t.”

“No offense, but you need to work on your game. No subtlety at all.”

“My game is excellent, thank you. Even if I do take really bad advice from Sonny sometimes. Also, has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible actor?”

“Hey, I have an honest face. It’s a good quality.”

“You do have a good face.”

“Aw, thanks. So do you.”

There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line, and Tobin imagines Christen sitting on a couch, swinging her legs over and getting comfortable. Christen’s tone is warm when she asks, “Did you have a reason for calling?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice.”

Christen doesn’t say anything for a second, and Tobin can imagine her expression, that embarrassed smile she makes when Tobin says something like that. 

“Well, now you’ve heard it,” she answers eventually.

“And I saw a really cute dog today I wanted to tell you about.”

“Oh, really?” Christen’s tone brightens, unabashedly excited at just the thought of a dog, and something in Tobin’s chest squeezes tight.

“Yeah. So my teammate Lindsey adopted a dog last weekend, even though her apartment definitely doesn’t allow it…”

Tobin tells the whole story, which leads to Christen sharing tales of Morena and Khaleesi, which leads to Tobin sharing stories of her childhood. They follow the winding trail of conversation anywhere and everywhere, their voices getting quieter as the hours pass. The next time Tobin looks at the clock, her voice is rusty, and the clock tells her it’s nearly midnight.

They’ve reached a quiet lull in the conversation, but a comfortable one. One where they both know that they should probably get off the phone, but Tobin doesn’t want to quite yet.

Tobin yawns and reaches out, stretching as far as she can to hit the light switch without having to get out of bed.

She blinks in the sudden darkness, Christen’s soft breathing in her ear.

And maybe it’s the darkness that makes her suddenly brave, but she blurts out, “Christen?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you a lot.”

She can hear the smile in Christen’s voice when she answers, “I like you a lot, too.”

“Is it too soon to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, Tobin curses herself for getting carried away, letting the darkness and their quiet, comfortable conversation lull her into a false sense of surety.

“I think it’s the perfect time, except for one thing.”

Tobin’s heart sinks. “What’s that?”

“That you’re too far away for me to kiss you right now.”

“Oh.” Her heart jumps right back up into its proper pace and starts beating like mad. “Good. I know it’s, like, fast, or whatever, but when you know, you know, right?”

“Right.” Christen’s voice is hesitant when she adds, “I should let you know, though…I know I haven’t talked about her, really, but my ex put me through a lot, and I’m still kind of working through it. I wasn’t planning on dating anyone at all until at least next semester, actually.”

Tobin fiddles with the edge of her sheets. “Gotcha.”

“Well, that was the plan, at least. Until _someone_ came along with her plethora of sweatpants and made me reconsider,” Christen says, her voice teasing as she tries to lighten the mood.

Tobin smiles, but she still has to voice what’s on her mind. “Hey, listen, if you want to keep things casual for a while, I’m cool with it. Whatever you want.”

“See, but that’s why I’m okay with it. Because you would. But that isn’t what I want. I want to be your girlfriend.”

The words cause a rush of feelings Tobin isn’t prepared for, and she’s glad she’s already lying down, or she might have had to do so simply to keep from being overwhelmed.

“Just let me know if you feel like I’m rushing you.”

“I promise I will.”

“Good.”

“We should probably sleep. Get up our strength for the hike.”

“It’s an easy hike. I need two, three hours tops,” Tobin says dismissively, and Christen chuckles sleepily on the other end of the line.

“Well, I need more than that, or the result isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“You’re always pretty.”

“You’ve never seen me on three hours of sleep.”

Tobin laughs, which turns into a yawn so wide that her jaw cracks. “Yeah, okay. We should probably sleep. You’re right.”

“I am very wise.”

“See you tomorrow, Christen.”

“See you tomorrow, Tobin,” she replies, her voice soft, and hearing her name from Christen’s lips is still as thrilling as the first time.

Tobin hangs up, only now noticing that her phone battery is well into the red, barely a sliver left. She plugs it in, then flops back down onto the pillow, a smile still on her face as she closes her eyes.

She gets to see Christen tomorrow.

She gets to see her _girlfriend_ tomorrow.

Tomorrow is going to be a great day.

##

**Kelley (11:01 AM): call me when you get a chance!!**

**Tobin (11:43 AM): is something wrong?**

**Kelley (11:44 AM): no**  
**Kelley (11:44 AM ): just had a really great idea for your next dare, and daring over text is boring**

**Tobin (11:53): christen and i are about to leave for a hike, so if i mysteriously fail to call you, it’s probably because we don’t have service**  
**Tobin (11:53): don’t read anything into it**

**Kelley (11:54): don’t think this means i’ll forget**  
**Kelley (11:54): but it can wait. have fun with your girl :)**  
**Kelley (11:55): (you’re welcome, btw)**


End file.
